Last night I went to a barbecue armed with ice cream. Even though it was a Bring Your Own, Grill Your Own, I hoped that ice cream could be exchanged for someone’s leftover hamburger or polish. It was an even trade and I was given a plate with grilled veggies and a polish that may or may not have reached the required internal minimum temperature. That might explain the state of my stomach today.
Anyway. As conversation turned from work to dating, I mentioned the dates I’d been on as a result of the Esquire article. Then Brian, a friend of a friend, exclaimed, “Those people are REAL?”
“Yes, yes we are. With one exception, we all wrote the ads honestly.”
“Well, I’ll have to dig out the old issue and see who you are.”
“Carmen Electra’s on the cover.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
But yeah, it lives on.
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